Triangles
by NinjaTomatoFairyKing
Summary: After the events of Season 3, Sherlock gets called in by Mycroft to watch their estranged sister Aurora, or Rory as she is called. However, when a new case comes up, she might not be the only person in the past who Sherlock has to face. A game of Triangles is started when the case threatens all that Sherlock holds dear.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock sat across his brother back in 221B Baker Street. John sat in a nearby chair tapping his fingers against the arm. They had somehow managed to talk Mary into staying at home. "Sherlock, I need you to watch Rory," Mycroft sighed. Sherlock straightened his back, eyes narrowed.

"No," he growled with quick certainty.

"Come on, she isn't that bad," Mycroft urged.

"Isn't she a call girl now?" Sherlock asked. Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"Who's Rory?" John suddenly cut in. The Holmes brothers looked over at the doctor.

"Don't ask," they replied in unison.

"Yes, Rory is a call girl, and that's part of why I need you to watch her. She's had two names on her list and that is all. Those names are Sebastian and James," Mycroft explained. Sherlock shuttered.

"Oh god, you don't honestly think, do you?" Sherlock groaned. "Why don't you keep an eye on her, or Mum and Dad, or even Mo for heaven's sake?"

"Mum and Dad won't have anything to do with her, you know that. None of us have even talked to Mo in years. I can't watch her," Mycroft shot.

"Why not?" Sherlock inquired sharply. Mycroft sighed.

"I've been busy taking care of Rosalyn because of your mistake, the same mistake that is now the reason we haven't had any contact with Mo. I actually don't even know where she is," Mycroft caved. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"That's my Mo," the detective chuckled under his breath.

"Excuse me, who are these people?" John demanded.

"I'll leave my brother to explain that. Rory should be here within the hour. If you want to stay in England, you will watch her and that is the end of the story," Mycroft coughed as he stood up, straightening his suit.

"Fine," Sherlock caved with a deep growl. "I'll watch the damn girl." With that, a satisfied Mycroft left.

"Who are these people?" John asked again. Sherlock looked over at his friend.

"Rory is the youngest Holmes," Sherlock replied. "She's a bit of a pain really, been estranged from the family since she was 18. That'd be about 8 years now."

"You have a sister?" John breathed.

"Yes, and two brothers. Rosalyn is the wife of one of them," Sherlock answered.

"Where is your other brother?" John inquired.

"I'm not going to say," Sherlock muttered.

"Who's Mo then?" John pushed. Sherlock simply smiled.

Rory sat sulking in the back of Mycroft's limo. She answered her ringing phone. "I've been brought in, dear," she sighed.

"Oh, have the older brothers finally caught on?" Irene Adler laughed on the other end.

"Well, you did send a very nice client my way," Rory reminded her.

"I do suppose I did. How are you two getting along anyways?" Irene asked. Rory looked over at Mycroft's secretary, a woman whose name Rory just didn't care to remember.

"Just beautifully," Rory replied. "I'm sure he'll be calling in to check on me soon enough. He's been talking about getting me out of the business entirely."

"Has he actually talked about settling down?" Irene breathed in shock.

"More than that, he's actually started planning," Rory confirmed. "I'll talk to you later. We're nearing Baker Street."

"Tell Sherlock I said hello, would you?" Irene sighed.

"He'll never love you, you know. I might be one of the only people who will ever know the name of the one he loves," Rory cooed, ending the call. She leaned back in her seat as they pulled up. Rory watched as the secretary opened the door.

"Do I need to drag you?" the woman asked in a bored tone. Rory shook her head.

"No, I'm done fighting. It's time to let the waiting game begin," Rory clicked her tongue, stepping out of the car. She smiled, fixing her long sleeve loose black blouse. "It's time to reunite with brother dearest."

Moira was half asleep on her couch in her flat, lap top at her feet. Her glasses rested crooked on her nose, and her outstretched hand rested on one of the many stacks of books and notebooks. It was late in the afternoon, and her phone was buzzing off the hook, the only thing keeping her from falling asleep. Groaning, she turned over and fixed her glasses. She frowned as she saw the Caller ID and pressed ignore. "Not now," she muttered under her breath with a heavy yawn. The buzzing continued and Moira tossed the phone at the wall. "Shut up!" she growled, walking through her cluttered flat to her kitchen. Turning on the light, Moira closed her eyes, head hung over as she reached for her wine bottle.

It was her one night off, her one night to work on the things she went to university for, and she just couldn't be left alone. Well, she'd ignore him. Nine years was damn well near long enough for her to move on. He had to understand that. With a bag of popcorn and a glass of wine in hand, Moira sat back down on her couch, pulling her laptop back into her lap. She was so close to cracking the codes, that much she understood. All her life she had been studying and decoding, and the answers were on the tip of her fingers. She glanced up at her books just as her phone buzzed again. Moira just let it slip out of his mind.

All that time, and Moira couldn't be rid of it. Defeated, Moira stood. She'd never finish this if she didn't answer. Walking across the room, Moira picked up her phone and answered. "Where are you?" the voice asked.

"I'll never tell," Moira growled. "Get out of my life."

"Why haven't you given me the papers?"

"Shove off," Moira shouted, ending the call. She silenced her phone and tossed it onto her bed, sitting back down to her work with a heavy heart. Nine years and he could still make her cry. She took a long sip of wine, hoping to get everything out of her mind. Would it be enough? Would solving this give her any peace of mind? Or would she, as always, fall and fail?

The body was shoved face down with its shirt torn off just enough to expose the shoulder. An intricate set of triangles in artistic and ancient display was newly inked there, a tattoo not even a week old. The police sirens buzzed into the quiet night. The killer slipped off into the shadows. A game of triangles was now set into motion. It was time for the players to step forward.

 **A/N: Hello readers! Welcome to my new story! I'm excited for it. Hopefully you all will enjoy it. I was inspired by a few different fan fictions and just had to write. So let's just jump right in. If you want to know more about all of my fan fictions, or even just me, check out my profile. I have a lot of information up there, and I update pretty regularly. If you're new to my stories, welcome. If you've read other ones, welcome back. I hope you all enjoyed this new start, and please leave a review. I use reviews to figure out what works well and what doesn't, so let me know how I'm doing. I also use review to figure out how popular a story is, which determines how much I work on it and how much I update. Happy New Year!**


	2. Chapter 2

Rory stepped into the room with a flare. Her eyes burned with icy fire, that same blue as her elder brother's. Her lips were painted a dark red, and her black hair was set in curls and half pinned back. It was classy yet sexy with a low cut shirt and leggings instead of jeans. Her high heels showed power, but she was still just a 26 year old girl. In Sherlock's eyes, she was still that rebellious 18 year old spiraling out of her family's control. They all fell apart in that year. Rory had held out the longest. "It's been a while, Sherlock. How's Mo?" Rory asked, one hand on her hip.

"Don't act like I've seen her," Sherlock growled. "Rory, this is John. John, meet Rory."

"I've read your blog," Rory remarked, pointing to John. The doctor just gawked at the woman.

"Yes, she's stunning. She's a call girl," Sherlock sighed. "Don't eye my sister. You're married."

"You make it seem like my line of work is so horrible," Rory pouted. "The Woman says hello by the way."

"You're in touch with her?" Sherlock asked.

"Who do you think gave me my clients? I'm sure you've pieced together that it's really just the one," Rory cooed.

"You're a call girl with one client?" John stammered.

"Yes, I really am," Rory sighed, her eyes locked on Sherlock.

"So after all this time and he really is alive," Sherlock shook his head. "I knew it!"

"He isn't in the same business, but that's all I'll say for now," Rory winked, she began to walk away. "I'm getting a shower."

"She knows Moriarty," John pointed out as Rory left the room.

"Of course she does," Sherlock muttered.

It was the next morning when Sherlock found himself staring at the ceiling, his phone on his chest. The door opened and Lestrade stepped in. "We have a case," Lestrade cleared his throat.

"She won't answer her phone," Sherlock growled.

"I'm offering a case and you're going on about her again?" Lestrade groaned. Sherlock sat up.

"What's the case?" Sherlock asked.

"A man was found. He had a new tattoo. It's… interesting," Lestrade explained, tossing a photo to Sherlock.

"We really need to get her to answer her phone," Sherlock sighed.

"Do you think she can figure it out?" Lestrade inquired.

"How many years has she spent studying this? Either way, she's in danger if this all means what we think it does," Sherlock hypothesized. Lestrade thought for a moment.

"Well, try calling her again," Lestrade offered. Sherlock heavily sighed. "I'll leave you to it."

"Can you keep an eye on Rory for the day?" Sherlock asked.

"Rory's here?"

"Yes, Mycroft wants me to watch her, but I think you and I may prefer her out of the flat for the day," Sherlock explained. Lestrade laughed.

"I'll take her. Maybe she and Molly will get along," Lestrade offered.

"She'll eat Molly alive," Sherlock pointed out.

"I think Molly can handle her," Lestrade assured. Sherlock jumped to his feet and made his way down the hall, banging on Rory's door.

"What the hell, Sherlock?" Rory groaned.

"Get dressed, you're going with Lestrade," Sherlock ordered. He dialed the number again. The phone kept on ringing. "Pick up, damn it," he whispered impatiently. There was no answer. A few minutes later Rory stepped out in a low cut tank top and ripped jeans, a leather jacket in hand.

"I'll see you later then," Rory winked, trying to kiss her brother on the cheek. Sherlock just jerked away, trying to call the number again. No answer. An hour later, John came by.

"Sherlock, I wanted to see what you were up to," John called. Sherlock looked up from his computer after writing down an address.

"We're going out," Sherlock announced, grabbed his coat and scarf.

"What are you talking about?" John asked. "Where's Rory?"

"She's with Molly for the day. We have a case, but I need to meet with someone. We're going out. I have the address here," Sherlock explained, tearing down the stairs. John ran after him.

"I can't be out for long. Mary wants me back," John protested.

"Don't worry. Once we meet this woman, you can leave. I'm sure it might be better that way. Well, no, never mind, let's just go," Sherlock sighed. All the car ride he could barely keep still. This was too long in coming. Now it was finally here.

Moira was half exhausted by morning, but at least she had gotten some work done. She was just about to go to bed when a sudden knock came at the door. "What now?" Moira groaned, throwing her head back as she made her way to the door of her flat. Opening it, Moira was shocked. "You have got to be kidding me," she growled.

"Hello Mo," Sherlock coughed. Moira stepped aside to let Sherlock and John into the room. Oh, she knew John all right. She'd only seen their faces on the news countless times, and had even had a mind to check the blog once or twice. Moira slammed the door shut and glared at Sherlock. John seemed to be the only one phased by the fact that Moira was just in an oversized tee shirt.

"You bloody idiot, you have the guts to come here after nine years! You, who put me through hell and back, not to mention my best friend… You who ruined all our lives and almost killed yourself in the process how many damn times?" Moira growled. She slapped Sherlock's face as hard as she could. "That is for what you put me through!"

"I'm still surprised you didn't hand me divorce papers after all this time. Why didn't you?" Sherlock sighed. Moira shook her head and dragged him forward by the scarf. She pressed her lips firmly against his, holding them there for a few moments before she finally pulled back.

"Because I'm the bloody idiot who can't move on," she breathed.

"What the hell?" John exclaimed. "Sherlock, what the hell is going on?"

"You never told him about me?" Moira asked. Sherlock shook his head. Moira groaned, walking off to grab a pair of pants. "You're such a pain in the ass, you know that?"

"John, this lovely woman is my wife, Moira," Sherlock sighed heavily as Moira reentered the room.

"I didn't… You… You're married?" John stammered.

"What's it been, 11 years now? Nine have been spent separated, but it's been around eleven," Moira replied.

"I don't think anyone outside the family knows I'm married," Sherlock pointed out.

"How is your family?" Moira asked.

"Not the reason I'm here," Sherlock replied, handing her a picture of a dead man. "I think you know what that tattoo is."

"Oh my god, is this real?" Moira breathed.

"Lestrade came by this morning and gave it to me," Sherlock explained. "I'm helping with the case, but I figured you were more the expert than I was." Moira glared up at the man. "It was as good an excuse as any to finally see you again."

"That's fair enough," Moira remarked. She finally studied John for a moment. "So, you're the man who's kept this train wreck in control. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you as well," John coughed. Moira laughed.

"Trust me, if you knew why I left, you'd be a bit less flustered," Moira assured. John just slowly nodded.

"Keep me in the loop. I should go back to Mary," John told Sherlock, leaving the flat.

"I think he's going to blog about us now," Moira frowned.

"Probably," Sherlock agreed. "So, nine years…"

"She's a wreck you know," Moira pointed out.

"She's under watch, still living at home. Mycroft kept her out of an institution. She has her good days and her bad," Sherlock explained.

"She'll be in the middle of this, you know. Her family would be a target," Moira suggested.

"If I'm right about things, then I think Rory might be as well. She's a call girl now, and her only client is Jim Moriarty," Sherlock added.

"So the news is right in their speculation then?" Moira asked. Sherlock stiffly nodded.

"Apparently so," Sherlock confirmed. "Shall we take this to the bedroom?"

"I thought you would never ask," Moira replied with a smile.

Rory sat bored as Molly got to work. Lestrade had only just left, leaving Molly still slightly blushing. "If you both like each other, you should just go and tell him," Rory blurted out before she could get her self control in place. Molly began blushing even more now.

"I-I don't like him," she stammered. Rory just rolled her eyes as she slid her phone out of her pocket.

"Where are you? –JM," read the text. Rory sighed.

"Of course you don't like him, you only act like a schoolgirl whenever he's around," Rory muttered as she typed a reply. "With Miss Hooper being watched. –RH."

"So how come Sherlock never mentioned he had a sister?" Molly asked, clearing her throat as she changed the subject. Rory frowned.

"There is a reason they use the term estranged in front of sister," Rory pointed out, looking back down at her phone.

"Need a hand? –JM."

"Not quite yet. Let's have some fun with this first. –RH."

"Who are you texting?" Molly inquired, trying to look over as Rory slid her phone back into her pocket.

"Just don't," Rory cautioned. "I'm only here because my brothers think I might be of use and they also don't approve of my line of work. So just don't."

"What's your line of work?" Molly asked, leaning forward on the counter. Rory frowned.

"You ask way too many questions," Rory growled. "Fine, I'm a call girl." Molly leaned back again and went back to her work. Rory smiled. "I heard a rumor you liked my brother dearest. You know, he isn't incapable of love."

"I don't think that really matters," Molly muttered.

"He is in love actually. He won't say it, as he won't talk about her too much. Still, he was a different man all those years ago," Rory sighed. Molly looked up now.

"Who?" Molly squeaked.

"Oh, the fun is in not telling," Rory laughed. "The fun is in watching you squirm," she then muttered under her breath.

 **A/N: So this fan fiction is getting popular... Way more than I thought it would. So who all watched the Christmas special? I feel like Moffat just confused me even more, but I think I have the Moriarty thing figured out... Maybe. The episode was amazing though, beautifully well done. Back to the story! You guys get to see a little more of some of my characters in play. I like my girls. They've been in my head for me to work with for a few years now, and seeing them in this situation is just fun. I'll see you all next chapter though. Check my profile, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and as I will always remind you, please leave a review! Thanks!**


	3. Chapter 3

Moira and Sherlock sat in the flat in utter silence. Sherlock sat in his chair lost in thought. Moira sat on the arm of the couch. Neither moved and neither said a word, and as John and Mary stepped into the room, he realized just how similar they were. Sherlock was a man of science and reason, and Moira was a woman of history and theory, but both loved to work a case. While he was gone, John had actually taken the time to look up this Moira Holmes. She was a historian studying ancient religions, and had left the university where she worked around the same time that she had left Sherlock in order to focus on some major theory she had in mind.

"Wow," Mary breathed, shaking her head as she went to the kitchen to make some tea. John looked from Sherlock to Moira. They were posed the same way from the waist up. John took some time now to study this new woman. She was not tall and not short, but a fair height and weight. She had dark brown hair that hung in curls around her shoulders. Her eyes were a steel blue. Sherlock finally took notice of John and Mary, and looked over at Moira.

"Oh, you're here," Sherlock muttered to John as he stood up to stretch. "Lestrade and Rory should be back soon."

"You know your sister isn't that fond of me," Moira groaned, finally breaking her silence as well. She fell onto the couch and grabbed her laptop.

"So what exactly is this case?" John asked. So far Sherlock had said all too little on the subject.

"A man was found dead rather early this morning with a strange tattoo on his shoulder. The killer shoved the man face down and tore the shirt down enough to show the tattoo," Sherlock explained.

"The tattoo is an ancient symbol, one I haven't seen on a human being in years. The symbol dates back farther than written record, and seems to be the head symbol of an ancient religion, one I've been studying for years," Moira added as she adjusted her glasses.

"Okay, so how come you haven't been to the crime scene?" John asked.

"There is no need, John. The symbol will be our main hint in the matter. Who the man was doesn't matter. The fact that he had recently had the symbol tattooed does matter," Sherlock argued.

"This religion is the most secretive I've ever seen, and it's older than any other known to man. Someone is trying to expose the religion, and more than that, they are killing its followers starting with the newest," Moira explained, setting her laptop aside. "I've been working on understanding this religion, savassi it's called, and decoding its history. That will be key to finding out what group of people would do what our killer is doing, thus narrowing down the search."

"That sounds interesting," Mary cut in as she entered the room with a tray of tea.

"When I saw the symbol I knew I had to get Mo involved. She is the expert on the subject. I don't usually bother too much with history, particularly not religions, but she's fascinated by it," Sherlock remarked as he took a cup of tea. Moira grabbed one as well and sat on Sherlock's knee.

"It's been my life's work ever since I was first introduced to savassi. Many historians only know the most surface parts of the religion, but I've been able to get a decent handle on it. I'm almost done with my work," Moira sighed. Sherlock looked up.

"You are?" he asked. Moira quickly nodded. "Well, I suppose I should say congrats."

"That's unlike you," John huffed. Moira chuckled.

"There is one thing you need to know about Sherlock Holmes: You never will really know him," Moira pointed out. Sherlock just glared at her but said nothing.

"What should we do now then?" Mary asked as she took a seat.

"I'm not quite sure yet," Sherlock sighed. "Let's wait for Lestrade and Rory to get back."

Rory had snuck out saying she was going to the bathroom. Instead she called Jim. "I'll meet you at the café down the street," she breathed.

"Rory, stay safe," Jim warned.

"What's going on?" Rory asked as she turned the hall.

"I'm not sure, but I don't think we're safe," Jim sighed. Rory bit her lip. She could hear the worry in his voice, something so unlike him it sent chills down her spine.

"I'll do what I can," Rory assured. "Just meet me at." She was cut off as a hand clapped over her mouth. Her phone clattered to the ground. She tried to scream, but soon found the world turning black.

"She's not there," Lestrade panted n the other end of the line. Sherlock felt his blood turn cold. Where was Rory? He kept himself calm.

"Get back here then," Sherlock growled. He tossed his phone to Moira who plugged it in to charge. "Where the HELL could she have gone?"

"She's missing? Do you think she could have been meeting with Moriarty?" Moira asked.

"Wait, so he's really back then?" Mary inquired. They all nodded.

"My worst fear at the moment is that she went to see him," Sherlock sighed. "Particularly under the circumstances."

"What circumstances?" John asked. Sherlock and Moira looked at each other.

"Moriarty is a savassi based name," Moira explained. "If he actually practices the religion, then there is a large target on his head. Moreover, Rory will be at risk as well."

"God, this is just getting more complicated," John sighed. Mary rested a hand on his shoulder.

"We should get Rosalyn under stronger watch," Moira suggested to Sherlock. A sudden knock came at the door. Sherlock jumped to his feet. Mrs. Hudson had gone out shopping for the day, so Sherlock wondered who it could have been. Lestrade was too far away to have been here now. He went over and opened the door.

"I come in peace," Moriarty panted. "Rory's been taken."

"What makes you think that?" Sherlock growled. John looked to see who it was and picked up a gun on the table. Sherlock raised a hand to have John wait.

"She called me. She wanted to see me, but as she was talking she dropped her phone. That's not like her, and I could have sworn I heard her try to scream," Moriarty explained. Sherlock thought for a moment.

"Set down the gun, John," Sherlock ordered with a sigh.

"Are you mad?" John exclaimed.

"Set it down," Sherlock growled. John finally caved. Mary and Moira just looked at each other.

"Let's, um, get another cup for tea," Mary coughed. The two women left the room. Moriarty stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

"I only came here because I had nowhere else to turn," Moriarty confessed.

"All these years and you didn't try to do anything," Sherlock pointed out.

"Things change, Sherlock Holmes. People fall in love," Moriarty explained.

"You wouldn't," Sherlock argued. Moriarty just laughed.

"How do you think I met Irene Adler?" Moriarty asked. "I'm a man, same as you, and I see you look at that one girl a certain way. By the way, congrats on the wedding, John."

"Shut up," John spat. The two women came in.

"You know about the killings," Moira remarked. "That's why you're concerned."

"You know about savassi?" Moriarty inquired.

"I've been studying it most of my life," Moira replied, resting a hand on Sherlock's tense shoulder.

"That seems like a difficult task," Moriarty sighed. Moira just shrugged. Sherlock was just studying the man across from him. Moriarty's eyes narrowed suddenly. "Wait, I've seen you before. You're that singer at that one bar downtown, aren't you?" Moira blushed.

"You sing downtown?" Sherlock asked.

"It's a cover to keep you and Mycroft off my ass," Moira defended herself. Sherlock just shrugged.

"You're rather talented," Moriarty pointed out. Moira just rolled her eyes. She looked down at her husband.

"When Lestrade gets her, perhaps I should explain the situation to him," Moira suggested.

"Yes, do it in the hall," Sherlock agreed. She squeezed his shoulder.

"So how long have you two been together? Rory has mentioned you, but not often," Moriarty cooed.

"Shut up," Moira barked. She was getting tired of his voice. Just then Lestrade knocked on the door and Moira went out to talk to him.

"Moira… It's good to see you," Lestrade muttered. "What's going on?"

"We think Rory was taken. Her sole client came by saying she had called him and something happened," Moira explained.

"What's with the tone?" Lestrade asked.

"Her only client is Moriarty," Moira sighed.

"You have got to be kidding me," Lestrade growled. Moira shook her head.

"He's part of savassi. It's tied to the murder, and he knows that," Moira explained.

"So the mark is what we think it is," Lestrade assumed. Moira nodded. "Rosalyn should be watched then."

"You should too. Your family adopting her puts you all under the same risk. Why do you think Moriarty is so scared about Rory?" Moira replied.

"Can we go inside?" Lestrade asked.

"Will you not try and kill Moriarty?"

"He's in there?"

"Why do you think I'm out here with you?"

"Fine, I'll leave him be," Lestrade sighed. Moira opened the door and they both stepped inside. Lestrade just glared at Moriarty.

"Does everyone have to hate me?" Moriarty groaned.

"Yes," everyone else replied in unison. Moriarty just frowned.

"I'll send a team to keep an eye on Rosalyn," Lestrade offered Sherlock.

"I'll be in touch Mycroft," Sherlock sighed.

"He's going to hate you. You can't even keep an eye on your own sister safe for 24 hours! By the way, where the bloody hell is your damn ring? If you and I are really going to be together again, you should be wearing it," Moira lectured.

"You're acting like my mother," Sherlock groaned.

"Go," Moira growled. Sherlock glared at her but got up and followed the order. John and Moriarty both started chuckling.

"I never thought I'd see him listen to another human being like that," John laughed.

"You'd be surprised the power we women may have," Mary pointed out.

"I think you and I will be getting along just fine," Moira sighed. The two women smiled as Sherlock reentered the room.

"I forgot how annoying this thing is," Sherlock sighed. Moira looked down at her wedding band and shrugged.

"Moriarty, what can you tell us about who is targeting those who follow savassi?" Moira asked, fixing her glasses as she grabbed her notebook and pen.

"I'm not exactly sure. It's some old organization, a secret society I believe. I've only heard rumors," Moriarty explained.

"Come sit with me over here. Perhaps you can help me with some of my notes," Moira offered. They went to the kitchen to work.

"So you two finally set aside your problems," Lestrade sighed as Mary handed him a cup of tea.

"What problems were those?" John asked as he cleared his throat.

"You know I was very much into drugs before, right?" Sherlock sighed. John and Mary both nodded. Lestrade just looked down. "It dealt with that."

 **A/N: Hi... Sorry I didn't post yesterday. I've been working on a fan fiction for a friend and I've become absorbed by it. So that's where I stand now. Yay. I'll keep this short and sweet. I think the plot is very much thickening now and I'm excited to keep this rolling (when I remember to post aka when I can drag self away from other work) and show you guys what comes next. That's what I've got for now, so check out my profile as always, hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please leave a review!**


	4. Chapter 4

*9 years ago*

Moira was setting up the Christmas tree in her flat. She was angry and tired from a long day at work where a colleague had decided to argue her theories, and it didn't help that Sherlock was nowhere to be seen. A 17 year old Rory was playing Christmas music in the kitchen as she called a friend from school. Rosalyn was going to come over as well. "So much for a family thing," Moira muttered. Mycroft had claimed to be too busy with work, and neither Sherrinford nor Sherlock were answering their phones. It made Moira's blood boil.

It was about an hour later when the call came. Moira, Rosalyn, and Rory were sitting on the couch admiring their handiwork with smiles and hot apple cider. Then Lestrade had called. "Sherlock screwed up big time," the newly made detective had sighed.

"What's going on?" Moira asked as her heart dropped.

"Ford is dead," Lestrade replied. Moira dropped the phone, looking over at Rosalyn, a beautiful Romani woman who had been adopted into the Lestrade family as a child. The woman's wedding ring glinted in the light of the Christmas tree. Moira had never felt so sorry as she did in that moment.

"Oh Rosalyn," Moira sighed as tears blurred her sight.

*Present Day*

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN SHE'S MISSING?" Mycroft roared as he stormed into the flat. Thankfully Moriarty had just left to grab some things. He would be staying with Sherlock and Moira. Moira insisted.

"She slipped away from Molly! How the hell is that my fault?" Sherlock snapped.

"YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE WATCHING HER!" Mycroft screamed.

"Both of you shut up!" Moira ordered sharply. They fell deathly quiet. "God, you haven't acted like this since Christmas nine years ago!"

"Funny considering the situation is very similar," Mycroft growled.

"Mike, shut the hell up," Moira snapped. She turned sharply to Sherlock. "The sad thing is, he's right. That doesn't help anything, but it doesn't make anything worse. We are going to fix this, and I don't care what the bloody hell it takes to do it."

"What's your plan then?" Mycroft asked.

"I'm still trying to find a lead," Moira confessed.

"This is hopeless," Sherlock sighed. Moira slapped him.

"No, it's not. They took her. Why would they just kidnap her? She's bait, Sherlock. They won't harm her until they get what they want," Moira explained harshly.

"I forgot how fiery you are," the Holmes brothers pointed out in unison.

"Look, you two can actually agree on something!" Moira remarked. "Mike, we need to have eyes on Rosalyn and Lestrade. They'll be on the list as well."

"Do you think so?" Mycroft asked.

"She's the daughter of a savassi priestess. I'm pretty damn sure," Moira growled. Mycroft threw up his hands.

"I'll be on it. What are you doing with Moriarty?" he caved.

"We're still figuring that out," Sherlock replied.

"Figure it out soon," Mycroft growled, leaving the flat.

"Do you have to be so mean?" Sherlock asked. Moira turned to him.

"I still haven't forgiven you for all the hell you've put us through over the years," she reminded him.

"I've changed!" he yelled. Moira just glared at him and began to storm off towards their bedroom. "Mo, come on. Don't be like this."

"I'm getting a shower! Leave me alone to think for once, damn it!" she called back with a growl. Sherlock plopped down in his chair. He wasn't going to argue with her when she was in that kind of a mood. Instead he sat there thinking, but not of the case, only of a December evening nine years gone.

John and Mary sat eating dinner in their flat. "I like her," Mary remarked.

"She's interesting to say the least. I wonder why Sherlock never said anything," John sighed.

"You're still caught up on him having a wife, aren't you?" Mary asked.

"It's just not like him," John argued. Mary laughed, shaking her head. "I just wonder why she left. I mean, drugs are one thing, but to leave for nine years, it had to be something bigger than that."

"Do some research," Mary suggested.

"Sherlock will probably have my head for it," John reminded her.

"Then the only thing you can do is wait for them to say something," Mary sighed.

"It's just strange, isn't it, to realize how different he is now?" John asked.

"You know, I bet Mo has a lot of funny stories about Sherlock," Mary laughed. John began to smile. Maybe he'd actually have a bit of fun with things. He finished eating and went into the bedroom to update his blog.

Moriarty sat across from Sherlock and Moira. "So you're sleeping with Rory," Moira mused.

"Yes," Moriarty coughed.

"I seriously think my family should just disown her," Sherlock muttered. Moira elbowed him.

"Shut up," she growled. "What he means is that you better take care of her."

"I hope to. We, um, we were starting a family, planning on it anyways," Moriarty confessed. Sherlock and Moira both fell silent as Moriarty leaned forward. "She was… she was ovulating the last time we slept together."

"You don't think she could be, do you?" Moira asked.

"Mo, look at how fertile our family tends to be," Sherlock reminded her. Moira leaned back into him. She couldn't forget.

"Yes, which reminds me," Moira muttered but now Sherlock elbowed her.

"Later," he growled. He studied Moriarty for a moment. "We have to save her at any cost."

"I know we do," Moriarty agreed. "I'm getting a shower and getting to bed. I, uh, thanks for letting me stay and help." The man stood and walked out of the room.

"We need to talk about them," Moira remarked.

"Where are they?" Sherlock asked.

"With my bloody parents, where else?" Moira snapped. She jumped off Sherlock's lap, turning to him with her hands on her hips.

"I want to see them, Mo," Sherlock confessed. Moira shook her head.

"Why the hell would I let you? I'm still trying to make sense of things. What the hell are we doing? Are we really getting back together? I can't let you hurt me like that again. I can't take it," Moira argued.

"Mo, I have changed. I have changed so much, and if it takes years to show you that and see them, then I'll do that," Sherlock sighed. Moira thought for a moment.

"If you don't prove that to me, then I will hand you those bloody papers, and you will never see me again," Moira warned with a low growl, pointing her finger at Sherlock. She sighed. "I'm going to finish my work now."

"Good luck," Sherlock called after her as she walked towards the bedroom. She froze, her body tensing, and gathering her senses continued to walk. Sherlock rubbed his temples with a heavy sigh. There were some days when Moira was just so aggravating that it drove him insane. This was one of them. He didn't know what all he could do, if anything. She was too stubborn.

Sherlock jumped to his feet, getting some more tea. His mind settled on the case. He hated not being able to do anything, but until Moira finished her thesis, they wouldn't really have much of a lead. He sighed. He could just go visit Moira's parents on his own. No, it would destroy any bit of trust Moira still had left for him. He'd have to be patient for once. Sitting back down, he frowned. He'd have to see Rosalyn eventually. It was only a matter of time. Still, he didn't want to. He wanted to be done with her, and all that she meant. What had happened was in the past, not the present. Yet it still kept coming up like a ghost haunting him.

Rory groaned as she came to. She was chained to a bed in a dimly lit room, her head spinning and aching. Her brain seemed to throb against her skull, making her curl into a ball. Nausea overwhelmed her stomach. She couldn't help but to clutch at it, shaking as she tried to fully wake. She could not quite keep herself together, or it would seem. With a sudden lurch she jumped off the bed and ran to the nearby toilet where she promptly choked up whatever was in her stomach. The chain around her ankle tugged at the sudden motion, and Rory flinched in pain.

Looking around as the throbbing of her head dulled, Rory studied the room. She couldn't tell where it was she was. A bed, a sink, and a toilet were all that was in the room. There was also a heavy door and a barred window, small and near the top of the back wall. She was a bit cold, and as Rory knelt there, what had happened came to her mind. She placed a hand on her stomach. "Damn it!" she yelled, her voice hitting the walls and echoing back to her. She began to cry, unaware that the little opening on the door had been slid back and that a pair of content eyes were watching her.

 **A/N: Yeah, this isn't going to be some easy happy plot. It never is. Lots of back and forth between Mo and Sherlock, everything with Rory, and lots more. That's the fun of it. So this is pretty popular. Wow. I didn't think it would be. I'm glad though. Keep on reading! As always, check my profile, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please leave a review!**


	5. Chapter 5

Moira had practically locked herself up in her room studying the religion she had spent so much of her life working on. Sherlock and Moriarty had been banned from the room, though every once in a while Moira called out with a question for consulting criminal, or ex consulting criminal as Moriarty liked to remind Sherlock. This had gone on for about two days before the knock on the door came. Sherlock jumped to his feet with a heavy sigh to open the door. Lestrade stood next to the shell of a Romani beauty. Her hair was a mess, her brown eyes wide with dark bags beneath him. She was thin and boney, and it seemed that she had been crying recently. A necklace with a single triangle hung around her neck.

"Sherlock, she insisted on seeing you," Lestrade sighed, a hand firmly on his adopted sister's shoulder. Rosalyn frowned as she hesitantly stepped into the room. She slapped Sherlock hard across the face as Lestrade let go of her to shut the door.

"I finished!" Moira cheered at that same moment. Her smile faded as she saw the scene. "Rozi?" Moira breathed, running forward as the woman collapsed back into her brother's arms, sobbing profusely.

"HE LET HIM DIE! HE LET HIM DIE!" Rosalyn screamed, soon swearing in a foreign language. Moira ran forward, rubbing Rosalyn's arm.

"Rozi, calm down. It's okay," Moira hushed. She waved Sherlock away as she glared up at Lestrade.

"She insisted," Lestrade growled. Rosalyn stopped shaking for a moment, looking Moira in the eyes.

"Mo," Rosalyn muttered, quickly hugging her old friend. Moira squeezed her eyes shut. The years had been too long.

Rory knew in her heart that she was pregnant. She had been so awfully sick, and so tired. Whenever she was not throwing up, she was sleeping, only to wake up and find food sitting on the floor by the door. She ate, even though she could barely keep it down. She was now curled up on the bed, drying away tears. She wanted Moriarty more than ever. Still, it was he that she could not have. Rory still didn't even know who it was that had her captive. It had to be a part of that case Sherlock seemed upset over.

"Why did I have to leave?" Rory groaned, rubbing her abdomen with her thumb. She was miserable, all alone. She was not used to be in such solitude. She hated having it around. She wanted to be near people again, to have some voice talk to her. Yet the room was silent still. It made her skin crawl. She just wanted the nightmare to be over. It was far from it though.

"Do you believe?" a voice asked, growling behind the door. Rory sat up quickly.

"What?" Rory muttered. Her voice was rough.

"Do you believe?" the voice repeated. Rory shook her head.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Rory answered. There was silence. She was alone once again.

Moira sat with a cup of tea in hand. They had managed to calm Rosalyn down again, but Sherlock had to leave the room. He went to go get John. Moira thought that for the best. She was about ready to tear the man to shreds for not telling his best friend about his family. He had to be more open with some people. Lestrade sighed. "So you have a lead then?" the detective asked. Moira quickly nodded.

"The group is as old as the religion. Terracee. I had to translate one too many documents to get that bloody name," Moira sighed.

"It's still shocking you got it. We've never been able to do so," Moriarty reminded her. She just glared over at him. She didn't like the man, whatever he said.

"The leader will be a man quite powerful in the circle," Moira continued. "From the information I have gathered, it may be that the Terracee are in England, as an actual home base."

"Is that all you can tell us?" Lestrade asked.

"If I could tell you more, I would. Even finding this much out has taken a major part of my life," Moira growled.

"Will it be enough?" Rosalyn inquired. Moira thought for a moment.

"Hopefully it should," Moira assured softly, squeezing her friend's hand. Even after nine years the pain was still real, at least in the widow's eyes. It was one drug deal gone wrong, so awfully wrong. Then again, had Ford not been there, it would have Moira getting the news that her love was no longer alive. "You should go get some rest. Sherlock's room is over there," Moira suggested. Lestrade led the poor woman down the hall.

"I didn't even know Sherlock had a sister… Or a wife," Moriarty mused.

"There's a lot you won't know unless he says anything," Moira pointed out. Moriarty slowly nodded.

"I'm sure," he sighed, leaning back. "I'm not surprised he chose you though. You're brilliant, same as him. You challenge him."

"Should I take that as a compliment?" Moira asked dryly. Moriarty laughed.

"We'll be in laws if we save Rory. I'm not looking to be on your bad side," Moriarty reminded her.

"In that case, you better bloody prove you're worth not being on it," Moira growled. Moriarty sighed, ready to speak, but Lestrade walked back into the room.

"She was actually starting to do a bit better," Lestrade remarked, shaking his head.

"It'd be hard to see Sherlock, even after all this time," Moira reminded him.

"Will she be okay?" Moriarty asked. Moira and Lestrade both shrugged.

"She's been like this for years," Moira pointed out coldly. She hated admitting that, but it was true. Her best friend had been locked inside her own nightmare for years. They had tried to help her. She was the first to break. Then it just went downhill.

*Eight and a Half Years Ago*

Moira had just come home from a doctor's appointment. She opened the door, trying to think through. "Sher, I have news," Moira called as she entered the flat. There was silence. "Sherlock, where are you?" Scared, she ran towards their bedroom. Sherlock was barely breathing, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling. That would be the first time he almost overdosed, though not the last.

*Present Time*

Sherlock came back not long later. John was with him. "Where's Rozi?" Sherlock asked.

"She's resting in your room," Moira replied.

"Our room you mean," Sherlock pointed out. Moira smiled.

"Yeah," she nodded quietly, looking over at John. "How's Mary?"

"She's a bit off today but alright," John answered. Moira stood to get another cup for tea.

"Morning sickness can be quite a beast," Moira chuckled. She turned back to see Moriarty frowning.

"If she is… If Rory is… She's probably so alone," Moriarty sighed heavily.

"She's tough," Sherlock argued. "Even if she starts showing symptoms, she's tough and smart enough to handle herself."

"I suppose you're right," Moriarty caved. Moira could understand the man's unrest. He loved Rory. Moira could see that now. He truly worried about her, as strange as that was. At least it seemed strange to the historian. Sighing, Moira realized she would have to publish her findings soon. Then again, she'd rather recompile everything first. Her papers and notes were a mess.

"What's our next step?" John asked. They all looked up at him.

"We have to find Terracee," Sherlock replied.

"Hopefully we can. If they realize we're on their trail, then they may just move out of sight," Moira sighed. Sherlock sat down next to her.

"I think considering their movements they may want us to be against them, to try and find them," Sherlock pointed out. Moira thought for a moment.

"You might be right," she breathed, looking up at her husband.

"When isn't he?" John huffed. Moira chuckled.

"You'd be surprised," Moira muttered. Sherlock glared at her. "I'll see if I can figure out what they've done before this murder. Greg, you and Sherlock might want to go and see if there are any new murders. If they're attacking all new members and working backwards, there will be more."

"It's so nice to be called my actual first name by a Holmes," Lestrade sighed. Sherlock just rolled his eyes.

"I'll go, if you and I can talk… Alone later on tonight," Sherlock remarked. Moira looked up at him.

"Alright," she sighed. Lestrade motioned for Sherlock to follow him. As they left the room, Moira let her head hang. Moriarty stood and left the room to retreat to the bedroom he was using.

"I can feel how tense it is between you two," John coughed, crossing his arms. Moira looked up at him.

"I found him almost dead three times, three separate times. Then I left. Not long after was when Greg found him. That was when Sherlock was sent to rehab. I was already long gone by then. I couldn't do it. I couldn't be with him," Moira confessed. John sat down.

"He's changed," John told her. Moira slowly nodded. "How… How did you two marry?" Moira laughed.

"We eloped. Neither of us ever cared for wedding ceremonies, still don't, so we just eloped after we graduated," Moira told him. She leaned back. "Missed the most important day of his life, he did."

"What do you mean?" John asked. Moira looked over at him.

"You know how he guessed about Mary?" Moira inquired. John shrugged.

"He knows things. He just does," John sighed. Moira shook her head.

"Maybe that's so," Moira mused. "Still, he won't tell you about his past, not even if you ask. The person he was is far from the person he is now." She stood, walking towards Sherlock's bedroom. "I'm going to check on Rozi."

Rory was curled into a ball on the bed. "What is your full name?" the voice asked, returning once more to the door. Rory jumped up.

"Who the hell are you?" she snapped, her voice hoarse from lack of use.

"What is your name?" the voice repeated with a low growl. Rory crossed her arms.

"Aurora Charlotte Elise Holmes," Rory sighed. The voice laughed, a sickeningly deep laugh.

"Do you believe?" it asked in a whisper.

"What the hell do you keep talking about?" Rory shouted.

"Do you believe in savassi?" it growled. Rory fell onto her knees. She understood now. It all clicked.

"It's because of him, of James, isn't it? Damn you! Let me go!" Rory cried. The voice never answered. Rory looked around, pushing back her hair out of her face. She choked back a sob as she stared at the ceiling. She'd do anything to get out of there, out of that room. She bit her lip, looking down at her stomach as she slipped her hand onto her abdomen. She'd do anything to keep her unborn child safe.

Sherlock sat in the car with Lestrade driving. "You miss her," Lestrade pointed out. Sherlock glared over at him.

"What?" he breathed. Lestrade sighed.

"You miss Mo. You like having her around," the inspector elaborated. Sherlock huffed.

"She's a good help with the case," Sherlock argued.

"You both need to let each other back in. You'll drive yourselves insane if you don't," Lestrade advised. Sherlock glanced out the window.

"I hurt her, Lestrade. We both will never let each other back in. I don't think it's possible," Sherlock sighed. Lestrade only smiled, pulling down an alley where a dead body had just been found not even an hour before.

"If I still know her well enough, I'd say that she misses you too. You two need each other. You work well together. Don't ruin that," Lestrade told Sherlock as he turned off the car. Sherlock opened his door without a word. They walked over to the dead body: face down on the pavement with her shirt pulled down to expose her shoulder… and a very familiar tattoo.

"She was right," Sherlock muttered.

"Of course she was. She's as smart as you," Lestrade pointed out. "If not then smarter." Sherlock kneeled down, studying the body.

"They keep the kill quick. It's exposing the tattoo that means more," Sherlock remarked. "They know what they're doing, probably have done it a lot. No one heard her scream."

"What do you think?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock looked up.

"They're going faster. They want to make a message," Sherlock mused, jumping to his feet. He looked around. His mind raced, taking it all in. "This one's closer to downtown. They're getting bolder."

Moira returned to the living area with her laptop. John had left, perhaps to get to work. The historian decided to do some work as well, turning on her computer and sifting through her data to find anything that could help. Sometime after, Mrs. Hudson came up. "One of Sherlock's, um, friends is here. Where did Sherlock get off to?" the landlady asked. Moira set aside her laptop.

"He went out with Lestrade," replied Moira. "I doubt he'll be gone too much longer."

"Well, I'll send Janine up then. Would you be wanting any tea?" Mrs. Hudson remarked. Moira shook her head.

"No, I'm fine," Moira assured.

"Alright," Mrs. Hudson sighed. "It's good for him, to have a woman around. He never mentioned you, not once. But I see how he looks at you."

"Thank you," Moira muttered, watching the woman walk away. The sound of her footsteps on the stairs were soon replaced by another woman. Moira looked at her.

"Who are you?" the woman asked.

"Dr. Moira Holmes, and you?" Moira replied, standing as she crossed her arms.

"Janine," the woman answered. "Holmes? Are you related to Sherl?" Moira smirked.

"Sherl? You must mean Sherlock, my husband," Moira growled. Janine raised an eyebrow.

"No wonder he never would sleep with me," Janine muttered. Moira rolled her eyes.

"I saw your name in the papers, I think. I don't read them often. I could tell it was all a lie. He's kinky… Not that kinky," Moira pointed out. Janine frowned.

"And you'd know?" Janine laughed.

"Of course she would. I've only had her… What a few hundred times?" Sherlock's voice cut in as he stormed into the room. He tossed his phone to Moira, pictures of the new murder on the screen. Moira studied them for a moment.

"So you two are actually a thing," Janine remarked, pointing at the two of them.

"Have been for a while," Sherlock muttered. He looked over at Moira, walking over and kissing her head.

"Well," Janine sighed, "we may have more to talk about than I thought."

 **A/N: Great... I've caught up to where I've had written. I may need to write this weekend... Well, here we are with a chapter I thought was shorter. We have so much information! By the way, the actual religious group plot line may not be like super epic or perfected, but I enjoy the character interactions with this fan fiction. The actual "plot" is really just there to force the characters together. So what does Janine want? We'll have to find out next chapter! Check out my profile, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and as always, please leave a review!**


	6. Chapter 6

"And what is it that you want to talk about?" Sherlock asked. Janine shrugged.

"Aside from you not telling me you were actually married? Well, I want protection," Janine explained.

"From what?" Moira asked sharply.

"I know about what's been going on. My dad was in that religion or whatever," Janine answered. Sherlock groaned.

"Does everyone I know have to have some connection to this?" he growled.

"It makes sense," Moira sighed. "You just attract it. It's so against what you would possibly consider, but the mystery and intrigue is right up your alley."

"Are you using logic I've used on others on me?" Sherlock asked. Moira shrugged.

"Well, I wouldn't know what you've used, now would I?" Moira snapped. Sherlock just glared at her, wrapping his arm around her waist. She tensed, but leaned against him anyways. Old habits would not go easy.

"I'll think about protection," Sherlock sighed. "Now, I have things to discuss… With my wife." Janine slowly nodded, storming out of the flat. Sherlock turned to Moira. "There's been another murder. They're getting bolder."

"So we thought," Moira remarked. She studied the picture again before setting it down. "What do you want to talk about later?"

"Mo, I said later, not now," Sherlock growled. Moira crossed her arms.

"If I know you well enough, you want to discuss them again," Moira pointed out. Sherlock groaned.

"It's been years. Neither of us are the same person we were years ago," Sherlock argued. "We have both changed."

"Sherlock, you didn't just hurt us. You almost died more times than you should have, and not to mention what's happened since. We deserve better," Moira growled.

"Mo… I said I've changed," Sherlock insisted. Moira shook her head.

"I haven't mentioned anything but I found the stash. There is no conversation here. You haven't actually changed, and I can't let you have what you want, not now," Moira resolved. She picked up the picture, studying it again.

"We think they've done it before. Bodies we haven't caught. Before it was about just killing the believers," Sherlock explained. Moira looked up.

"Now it's about making a point," Moira sighed, understanding what he was getting at. She bit her lip. "I'm getting really worried about Rory."

Rory was crying, shaking even. She held her legs to her chest as she sobbed. At first she could shove the emotions aside, but now that she knew why she was there, she couldn't keep that mask up. She was scared. Moriarty had warned her early on of the risks. It was why he was hesitant to settle down. Still, they had made the decision together. Now where was he? Was he looking for her? She wiped away her tears and took a deep breath. If Mycroft and Sherlock saw her as she was, they'd make fun of her. They'd tell her she was weak, pathetic. She didn't deserve to be a Holmes.

Well, she did deserve it. She began studying the room. She needed a way out, some way. She'd either escape or she and her unborn would die in that room. It was as simple as that. Her resolve steadying and returning, Rory began thinking of the possible escape routes. She was, after all, a Holmes. Maybe she was not quite on par with her brothers, but she could damn well earn herself some credit. It wasn't like she didn't have something in her skull. Her mother had raised her to be tough, to be better than this.

That brought the guilt in. She'd left her family. Rory had given up that good life. She slid a locket out of her pocket. In cursive was written "Aurora." She had her name. It was something of who she was before it all came crashing. She put the locket on and took a deep breath. It was time for a change. "Do you believe?" the voice asked, returning to the door. Rory tense.

"Shove off," Rory growled, a new surge of anger in her voice. It was stronger, braver. It was more like her. She stood. "Either shove off or explain to me why you won't let me go!" The voice chuckled.

"The spirit of fire," it cooed. "You still have not answered." Rory clenched her fist. The truth was, she didn't know. She'd considered it. The oldest religion meant something, it had to. At the same time, she was a Holmes, and the Holmes family didn't fall into that type of belief so easily.

"Ask me another question," Rory demanded. The voice stayed quiet, fading away with what she could faintly pick up as footsteps against the stone ground. She sat down on the bed again. The woman realized she had a lot of thinking to do.

Lestrade, Moriarty, Moira, Sherlock, and John sat in the living area of 221B Baker Street. It was evening now. Rosalyn was a bit better. Lestrade was going to take her home later. "Do you know if Rory took up the belief?" Sherlock asked. Moriarty shook his head.

"We'd talked about it, but she never said anything one way or another," Moriarty explained.

"That might just be what saves her life," Moira remarked.

"H-How did you and Rory meet?" Rosalyn asked. She had just stepped in from the kitchen. They all looked up at her.

"Well, a, um, mutual friend put us in touch," Moriarty coughed. Sherlock huffed, causing Moira to glare at him.

"At least she has some people around," Moira growled. "Isolation is useless." Now Sherlock was glaring at her. Moira crossed her arms, leaning back.

"Ok you two are just going back and forth between okay and near killing each other. Whatever the hell it is, you need to figure it out," Lestrade demanded.

"You already know what this is about," Moira sighed heavily. Rosalyn began shaking her head. She stood and walked away. "Even she does," Moira muttered, glancing up at her friend.

"What exactly happened between you two?" Moriarty inquired. Sherlock stood, remaining quiet. He held his phone in his hand, looking down at the screen. Moira raised an eyebrow.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"If we're explaining this, I want John here. I won't say it twice," Sherlock muttered. Moira sighed. He was right. They both would only be able to explain it once.

 **A/N: Hey there everyone! I am back with a new chapter! I'm still shocked with how many views this is getting. Next chapter will be an explanation chapter, which is why this may (if I recall) be shorter than the other chapters. I want next chapter to have a sole focus. On another note, I am trying to get myself into a writing rhythm. I want to write and post more regularly, but I don't know if that can/will happen. I will try though. Hopefully you all are still enjoying this though. Check out my profile for all the fun details of my fan fiction life. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and as always, please leave a review!**


	7. Chapter 7

In truth, Moira and Sherlock's story began when they were children. They were both the odd ones, reading on the playground while the other kids played. They were never exactly friends despite being neighbors, but they got along well enough. She fell in love first, or at least they think so. Neither could remember exactly how it happened, but it did. They were fifteen when they first kissed. They were sixteen when they started dating, and almost eighteen when they decided to give up their virginities to each other. Eleven years ago they eloped and spent a week in the country. Two years later it all started falling apart.

It was two days before Ford's death that Moira first felt unwell. Two days after the funeral the woman had decided to just go to a doctor. "Congrats," he had smiled. What congratulations were there? Sherlock was already starting to slip. The night before they had been arguing viciously because he was not only taking drugs but smoking heavier than he ever had before. She'd cried herself to sleep after hearing the door to their flat slam shut. Moira felt almost numb as she drove home. There was no one to call. In fact, Moira expected Sherlock would be missing for a few days. Pregnant. She'd always wanted children, but now she wasn't so sure. It was the worst timing possible.

By some unforeseen grace, Sherlock sat on the couch when Moira stepped into the flat. He looked up with tired eyes. Moira felt a chill run down her spine. "Where were you?" Sherlock asked. His tone was near dead.

"Doctors," Moira muttered, setting down her purse and going to the kitchen to make some tea. Sherlock stood, walking over to her.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked, a flicker of the man he had been before the accident in his voice. Moira closed her eyes and she shut off the water.

"I'm… Sherlock, I'm pregnant," Moira confessed, a tear rolling down her cheek. Sherlock froze for a moment before his hand snaked around her waist.

"Y-You're… All the sickness… Everything," Sherlock breathed. Moira slowly nodded. Sherlock pulled her back into his embrace. She flinched.

"Sherlock, don't act like this makes anything better," Moira hissed. Sherlock let go of her.

"Sorry," Sherlock muttered. Moira looked back at him.

"You're high, aren't you?" she asked. "I just told you you're going to be a father, but you're high."

"Moira… Please," Sherlock pleaded with a groan. Moira shook her head.

"Get the hell away from me," she hissed, storming off to the bedroom. It was only a few weeks later when she had her next appointment. Sherlock had stayed off the drugs a bit more finally, or at least that Moira could tell. She was almost excited to tell him the news. Twins. Then she came home to find him overdosed. Within seconds Moira had called Lestrade. She didn't exactly know if Sherlock would make it through. She would have left after that time but felt the need to stay.

The next two times he overdosed did it for Moira. The last one was the worst, but it still wasn't his last. They'd been arguing the night before. It wasn't even a full month since the first overdose. After finding Sherlock in the bathtub, it was clear to Moira. She packed her things and was gone the next day. The last overdose came shortly after Sherlock realized Moira was gone. He had almost died. He should have died. That was when he went to rehab, Lestrade and Mycroft forcing him into it. The last time they talked was when Lestrade insisted that Sherlock be there when the children were born- Samantha and William. That was when Moira told him goodbye, and that she never wanted to see him again.

For a while, Moira heard nothing. Then John started his blog. Moira kept away from it, busy as a mother and working on top of it. She could still remember the day she turned on the news to see the headlines that Sherlock had jumped off a building. She'd never felt that numb. She didn't just love him. She absolutely was intoxicated by him and every bit of time apart was torture. It still stood though. He had let his brother die. He had let himself get near death so many damn times. She couldn't trust him around her, let alone the children. She'd been all too grateful to have them elsewhere while she tried to finish work.

They all sat in silence. John's eyes were wide. Sherlock and Moira were tense, glaring at each other. The strong woman was actually on the verge of tears. Sherlock's expression was softening to something human. "You didn't… You never mentioned how much," Sherlock breathed, his voice trailing off.

"How much I love you?" Moira asked, her voice rasping as she stood. She shook her head. "You're a bloody idiot for ever thinking anything otherwise!" She stormed off to the bedroom.

"I don't think you guys have been that brutally human with each other in years," Lestrade pointed out. Sherlock just glared.

"How come you never mentioned any of this?" John demanded. Sherlock let out a heavy sigh.

"John, the man I was… Mo wanted me out of her life, out of their lives. I couldn't tell you. I couldn't… Not without talking about what happened," Sherlock muttered.

"Ford's death hurt us all," Lestrade agreed.

"H-How did he die? Rory never would tell me," Moriarty inquired.

"He stepped in the way of a bullet. It should have been me," Sherlock growled. He stood up, straightening his clothes. It was only now that they realized that Mrs. Hudson was standing right there.

"Sherlock… I never would have thought," she breathed.

"I don't need pity," Sherlock snapped.

"Sherlock Holmes, look at you! Your own wife is in your room crying after this and you won't even go after her. She wants you back. All you have to do is take better care of yourself. She doesn't want you killing yourself and leaving her alone with your children. For heaven's sake, can you blame her? Go and talk to her," Mrs. Hudson ordered. The room fell silent again, Sherlock's eyes widening. Still, he caved and went straight to the bedroom. Opening the door slowly, he noticed Mo curled up on the bed holding a picture as she cried.

"Mo," Sherlock cleared his throat. Tensing, Moira looked up.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Moira demanded. Sherlock sat down at the edge of the bed.

"We need to talk," Sherlock coughed. Moira sat up. "What you said… About after I faked my death… Did you mean it?"

"Of course I did. Why the bloody hell would I lie to you?" Moira sighed.

"You deserve so much better than I can give you," Sherlock confessed. Moira looked confused as Sherlock rested his hand on her knee. "I told you that the day we got married as well. I didn't think… I couldn't think I'd hurt you like that. Back then I didn't care. Being around John, it's changed me. I don't deserve another chance, but I am asking for one anyways."

"Sherlock, what the hell are you trying to get at?" Moira asked.

"I… I love you, Moira Holmes, and I want to try this all again," Sherlock explained. Moira studied him for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Finally she handed him the picture she had been holding. Two children no older than 7 or 8 stood smiling at a playground. They both had Moira's hair and Sherlock's stunning blue eyes. The girl was missing one of her front teeth, and the boy was laughing.

"That's what they look like," Moira muttered. Sherlock looked up at her. "I won't have them come here until the case is over, but when we get Rory back… When we put these damn bastards away, I'll let you meet them. They always ask about you."

"You're serious about this?" Sherlock asked. Moira nodded stiffly.

"I still love Sherlock, and I might be the stupidest person on the planet for this, but I want you back because I see that you've started changing," Moira replied. Sherlock reached over and brushed away her tears.

"I'm so sorry for everything I've done," Sherlock breathed, pulling her into his arms. Back in the living room, Lestrade had stood up.

"I'm taking Rosalyn to my flat for now. I'll be in touch," Lestrade explained, grabbing his coat.

"What was he like when all of that happened?" John asked. Lestrade froze.

"He was the coldest man I'd ever known," Lestrade confessed, walking away to get his adopted sister.

 **A/N: That was a heavy chapter! Sorry it was so long in coming. This was one of those chapters I just had to be in the mood to write. I have also been very busy. Hopefully you all can forgive me. I know there wasn't any Rory in this chapter. I'm sorry. We will start off with her next chapter, which should be fun. I love the dynamic of this chapter though. Anyways, check out my profile. I'm actually about to start posting for a new Supernatural fan fiction, so if you like Supernatural go give it a look. I may or may not even eventually decide to do a Superwho fan fiction with this and that one later on down the road. It's just a thought, something I've wanted to do. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and as always please leave a review!**


	8. Chapter 8

Rory was lost in thought, pacing what bit of the room she could. Her stomach was finally settling, allowing her mind to be a bit sharper. So now here she was, thinking of escapes and thinking of answers. The voice was starting to leave her alone for longer periods of times. She wanted to let that allow her to relax, but she knew she couldn't. She had to be tough, a Holmes through and through. She was the younger sister to the only consulting detective, and dating what was the only consulting criminal. She was not weak, not at all. Tensing her muscles, she scanned the room again. She was determined to get out of there. There was no other option for Rory.

Finally Rory sat down on the bed again, chin in hands. She wished she'd never left the lab now. She was so stupid, not thinking through what was going on. Even Moriarty had warned her… Her sweet James. She groaned. Rory could only imagine how Sherlock was reacting. It was a given that Moriarty would go to her brother, if not both brothers. That would only mean tension and chaos. At the same time, Rory would give anything to watch them in the same room now. The thought of it actually brought a smile to her face, at least for a moment.

That moment faded, Rory thinking about what all was at stake. Did Moriarty realize she was probably expecting? Did he know what she knew? They had finally been working towards what they had always wanted, and now it was at risk for being taken away. Rory clenched her fist, slamming it on the bed as tears pricked her eyes. She shook her head. No, she had to better than that, and not even for herself. It had to be for her child. Rory took a deep breath. She was just going to have to stay strong until Sherlock cracked the puzzle, just as he always did.

Sherlock sat in his chair, listening to the crack of the fire. Moira was asleep, same with Moriarty. The others had all left. It was just past midnight, and Sherlock glared at the box of drugs in front of him. This is what everything had come to. How often had these types of substances ruined him, the things he held close? He let out a deep sigh, knowing the answer was all too many times. It had cost him everything. With a deep growl, he lunged forward, throwing the box into the flames. He watched as the remains of what had held him captive burned and sizzled.

"Sherlock?" a tired voice asked. Sherlock looked up to see Moira, dressed in just an oversized tee shirt, step into the room, rubbing her eyes.

"Did I wake you?" Sherlock muttered. Moira shook her head, walking up to him.

"What are you doing?" Moira inquired with a yawn. Sherlock studied her.

"I burned them… All of them. I'm changing, Mo. I have changed. I will do whatever the hell it takes to show you that," Sherlock explained. Moira bit her lip.

"I get the effort… But… Will it really do anything?" Moira sighed. Sherlock grabbed her arm.

"I want you back in my life. I want them in my life. I will do anything to show you that," Sherlock growled. He pulled her into his embrace, feeling her tense a bit. "I love you," he muttered into her hair, closing his eyes. With those words, Moira finally wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Then get better," Moira urged. She pulled back. "I'm going back to bed. Come with me. You need to sleep for once."

"Mo… I'm fine," Sherlock sighed.

"Sherlock, would you listen to me for once?" Moira demanded. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Fine," Sherlock caved, following her back. He hadn't even realized how tired he was until his head hit the pillow.

In the morning, Sherlock had a better state of mind. He jumped out of bed, careful not to wake Moira, running over to find one of his maps of London. He grabbed a pen, making marks of the murders and where Rory was taken from. He had a feeling they would not risk moving her so far away from where they were killing. What sense would that make? Their job in London wasn't done yet. It wouldn't make sense to move her until they also moved. Sherlock studied the map for a while, unaware when Mrs. Hudson walked up. "Sherlock, what are you doing?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"I'm working," Sherlock muttered under his breath. He looked up and over at her. "I may know where Rory is being held."

"What?" a tired Moriarty breathed. He had just stepped out of his room. Sherlock looked over at him with a half smile.

"I need to call John," Sherlock replied, running to his room to grab his cell phone. Moira was just waking up.

"Sherlock, what's going on?" Moira asked with a yawn. Dialing John's number, he sat at the foot of the bed, absent mindedly setting his hand on Moira's feet.

"John, I have an address. I'll text it to you. Meet me there. Be armed," Sherlock explained as soon as he heard John answer.

"Is this about Rory?" John inquired. Sherlock looked over at Moira.

"Yes, I may have the whereabouts of where they're keeping her," Sherlock confirmed, hanging up and sending the address to Lestrade. He sighed as Moira slipped her arms around his neck. "That is a bit affectionate for you," Sherlock pointed out.

"What you did last night… I'm proud, Sherlock, I really am. It's a good step," Moira mused. She buried her nose in his hair.

"I have never stopped loving you," Sherlock told her. He pulled himself away with a sigh. "I should be going. It wouldn't be wise to waste time."

"No, certainly not," Moira cooed. "Bring her back safely, Sherlock." Sherlock managed a smile.

"I wouldn't dream of doing anything otherwise," he assured, stepping out of the room. Moriarty was waiting for him.

"Do you… Do you really think you may have found her?" Moriarty asked. Sherlock stiffly nodded.

"Stay here with Moira. I've already contacted John and Lestrade. I'm leaving now," Sherlock instructed.

"Sherlock, I have every right to be with her," Moriarty growled.

"She needs you here," Sherlock argued. He walked out before Moriarty could argue again. He ran down the stairs, fixing his jacket as he stepped out into the morning. There was a bit of a nip in the air, but it wasn't too bad compared to what it could have been. Grabbing a cab, Sherlock anxiously looked out on passing London. He couldn't think of the irony of everything. It was there… It was there that a life was lost. Sherlock hadn't been back since Ford's death. That place used to be a place of joy. He had his first kiss with Moira there. He also proposed there as summer became fall one year.

That all seemed like a lifetime ago, and now it only held bitterness. It also held his sister, the one he was supposed to protect. His parents had always asked him to take care of Rory since Mycroft and Ford were busy building careers. Everything had gone to hell since then. Most, if not all, was Sherlock's fault. He clenched his fist, watching as they pulled up to the warehouse. He tossed some money to the driver and stormed out without a word. "Sense of irony, isn't it?" Lestrade asked as he saw Sherlock.

"So I was just thinking," Sherlock muttered. John ran up to them.

"So, what's the plan?" John asked.

"We go in. We find her. We take her out alive," Sherlock growled.

"Should we call for backup?" Lestrade inquired.

"We shouldn't spook them. It will only end up causing her harm," Sherlock argued. He shook his head. "No, we must go in alone." He fixed his scarf. "So let's go." The warehouse was eerily quiet. There were indeed signs that someone had been here, but they were not here now. They had left in a hurry though, that was for sure.

Rory was curled up on the bed, shaking after experiencing morning sickness once again. She had heard rushing around just an hour before, followed by utter silence. She could hear nothing above the sounds that she made. The voice hadn't stopped by since the evening before. Rory felt more alone now than she ever had. However, she heard footsteps, loud ones, down the hall. She sat up, staring at the door, ready to go against the voice once more. However, when the door opened, Rory realized it wasn't the voice at all.

"Sherlock, I have her!" John called. He ran up to her, looking at her chains.

"Holy hell, John, how did you…?" Rory breathed, her voice raspy. Sherlock came bounding into the room.

"Rory," he muttered, running to his sister's side. "Lestrade! Look for a key!"

"A what?" Lestrade asked.

"A key damn it!" Sherlock snapped. John began looking over Rory.

"How are you feeling?" John asked calmly. Rory shrugged.

"I… well," Rory stammered.

"We already suspected you may be expecting," Sherlock confessed.

"How the…? Oh god, James found you?" Rory groaned. Lestrade entered the room.

"I, uh, found a key," Lestrade coughed. He handed it over to John who freed Rory.

"There was a man… Did you find anyone?" Rory demanded.

"Rory, we can talk more later. Right now we need to keep you safe," Sherlock soothed. It was only now that Rory realized she was crying.

"Wh-Where?" Rory muttered.

"Home," Sherlock whispered, picking her up in his arms. "I am to take you home."

 **A/N: So there we go... Rory is safe... At least for now. Also, Sherlock is going through some changes. Will he continue to try and do right by Moira? Or, will going back to where Ford died have a negative impact with him? Also, what happened to the voice? I'm enjoying this storyline the more it grows. I do apologize for slow updates on this one. The chapters are longer than the normal ones that I write, and I have to think through what I'm doing. Check out my profile, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and as always please leave a review!**


	9. Chapter 9

Home meant Sherlock's flat. 221B Baker Street was now bustling with activity, John checking Rory over. Moira, now dressed and showered, leaned against the doorway frowning, watching with careful eyes. Mary sat next to Rory, rubbing her shoulders as Sherlock sat in his chair and Moriarty paced the room. "But you're okay," Moriarty breathed.

"She looks fine," John sighed, standing up to stretch.

"Of course I'm bloody fine," Rory hissed. She looked over at Moira. "It's strange… Seeing you in the same room as Sherlock."

"Well, you had to go and get yourself kidnapped," Sherlock muttered. Moira glared at him sharply and he shut up.

"Yes, I was stupid. Just say it. I'd rather be treated like that than a poor child," Rory sighed, rubbing her temples. "I need a shower."

"Go on and get one. It'll do you some good," Sherlock encouraged. Rory nodded stiffly, getting up and leaving.

"D-Do you want some company?" Moriarty inquired. Rory turned to him.

"I, well, yeah, yeah that'd be nice. Better than in that room," Rory agreed. They walked down the hall.

"I'll, um, put on some tea," Mary muttered, walking to the kitchen.

"She may not want to be treated like a victim, but we should be careful," Moira pointed out. "At least until we have a better idea of things."

"She's going to do him in my bloody shower," Sherlock growled.

"Sherlock, I doubt she will. She's too shaken up," John argued.

"It's Rory. She'll do as she pleases. I think they'll be too concerned with the idea of being parents," Moira sighed, shaking her head. She walked over to Sherlock, lightly brushing an eyelash from his cheek. He looked at her in a bit of shock.

"What was that?" Sherlock asked. Moira shrugged.

"Habit, I suppose," Moira muttered.

"Something's changed between you two," John pointed out.

"Perhaps so and perhaps not," Sherlock mused. "Either way, that's more between us. We are the ones married to each other."

"Yeah… Still getting used to that," John sighed. Moira flashed him a smile.

"Well, I'd suggest adjusting quickly," the woman winked. She looked at her phone. "I should see Greg found anything at the scene. Then I'm going to see if my mother wants to make a weekend trip to London."

Moriarty had his hands wrapped around Rory's waist, his head in the crook of her neck as she tried to focus on washing her hair. Damn the hot water felt so good. She sighed at the sensation. "I'm pregnant," she muttered.

"I had a notion," Moriarty muttered, lightly nipping at her skin. She jerked her head away.

"Not now," she warned. "I'm really not in the mood." Moriarty pulled back, studying her.

"I love you," he reminded her.

"I know," Rory replied, turning to rinse out her hair. "I'm just… I just need some rest and some food. Some bloody time to think through what's going on. I get kidnapped. You sitting in the same room as my family not dead on the floor. Mo talking let alone seeing my brother again…"

"They told me and John about what happened. To Ford I mean. I didn't realize Sherlock was married with children," Moriarty sighed. Rory smiled.

"The Holmes family isn't small, James," Rory pointed out. Moriarty chuckled, hugging her tightly from behind.

"I was so worried," he muttered into her shoulder. "I could never sleep with you again and perfectly content knowing you're safe." Rory looked over at him.

"This is why I love you, and I know you love me. We… Bring out the best in each other and cover the worst," Rory mused. She turned to face him. "Now… just hold me and let me enjoy this shower."

Moira had slipped back into the bedroom after making arrangements with her mother. Sherlock opened the door and stepped in. "So?" he asked.

"I made a promise. I keep my promises, Sherlock," Moira pointed out. She sat up. "They'll be here, in town, for the weekend. I figure if we see them around Mycroft we might be able to keep them safe."

"No… We will," Sherlock insisted, sitting down next to her after shutting the door. "I've, uh, been thinking through what was said. Well, what you said to John. I-I have to say, Mo, I love y-" He was cut short by Moira kissing him.

"No words, just actions," Moira breathed, pushing him back on the bed. Sherlock grasped at the hem of her shirt, happy to have her back exactly where she belonged, where she had always belonged. He let himself get tangled in that once again, feeling her so close to him once again, and it became like old times. Tangled in each other and in the sheets, they looked at each other after, panting for breath. With a simple smile from Moira, Sherlock knew for the first time in a good while that the two of them might actually be okay.

Rory and Moriarty sat next to other looking at John. "They, uh, should be back out," John coughed. Rory laughed.

"Those two? Oh, bloody hell no," Rory argued. She crossed her arms. "They make the two of us look tame."

"Really? Sherlock?" Moriarty inquired. Rory shrugged as Mary brought out some tea.

"I'm not surprised considering all the shocks we've been having," Mary sighed.

"The box is gone," John muttered, looking around the room.

"What box?" Mary asked.

"He had a box on the mantle. It's gone," John pointed.

"Well, surprised is right if that's the box I think it would be," Rory mused, leaning forward.

"Well, what would it be?" John inquired.

"Drugs, his special stash. If that's gone then everything else is. So, he's given it all up," Rory explained.

"I didn't realize he still did them," John remarked.

"Why the hell do you think Mo didn't come back once he was out of rehab? She knew it didn't mean anything. She knew he would go back into it all," Rory argued.

"So now it means something," John pointed out. Rory nodded.

"Yeah, we may as well move forward like they don't exist for a few hours," Rory sighed. She stood and stretched just as Mrs. Hudson came up.

"It's Mycroft," she announced just as the other Holmes stepped in.

"Oh god, you're safe," Mycroft sighed.

"Oh, don't act like you care," Rory growled, crossing her arms. The two chuckled.

"Where is our brother dearest and his wife?" Mycroft asked. Rory and John pointed down the hall. "Well, it looks like they're making amends. So, tell me everything you all know about what's going on."

 **A/N: I am so sorry for not uploading in a while! I've been really busy writing for a friend (I may be using some of those plot line ideas here after this) and life in general has been chaos. I've been going back and forth and finally settled back home, have been getting some help with some mental health issues, and am graduating at the end of the month. Needless to say I have not been writing! However, I was in the mood suddenly for this and decided that I'd get something done. Things are looking up here, but will they stay so forever? Rory may be back, but that means that the Holmes and Watson families have to deal with Moriarty once and for all. Also, we may just meet Sherlock and Moira's kids rather soon. The two are also finally getting along, which could be interesting. Hopefully I can update again soon. Do check out my profile for information on what's going on in my life, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and as always please leave a review! Thanks!**


	10. Chapter 10

Rory had just finished eating some lunch while John checked her over once again. Sherlock and Moira had finally come back out, and Sherlock was talking with his brother downstairs while Moira looked over some of the things found at the warehouse. "So what the hell changed?" Rory asked Moira.

"What?" Moira muttered, not even looking up.

"You and my brother. It's been years, and suddenly here you are," Rory pointed out. Moira leaned back.

"Well let's see… You," Moira pointed out. Rory frowned. "Not good enough? Rory, you should know me enough by now. I might be one of the few people who can catch these bastards."

"She has a point," Moriarty agreed.

"Alright, so you're back," Rory sighed. "Seen Rosalyn yet?"

"Poor thing's a mess," Moira sighed.

"That's an understatement," Rory agreed.

"I'm going to say that getting rest is probably already known," John pointed out.

"Yeah, don't worry, too shaken up still to bother," Rory laughed. "I'm not like my brothers, running around saving the world."

"Don't count yourself short," Moriarty cautioned.

"Well, it's true," Rory insisted.

"You're a Holmes," Moira pointed out. "You can do more than you think." Just then Sherlock came up and Moira looked at him. "I want to see this place, figure out what I can."

"I'll go with you," Sherlock offered. He looked at Moriarty and Rory and over at John. "Watch those two. We shouldn't be too long."

"Sherlock, can we talk a moment?" John asked. Sherlock nodded, and walked out of the room with him. "What the hell are we even doing?"

"Solving a case," Sherlock replied.

"And you're just going with Moira," John sighed.

"Are you jealous that it's not you?" Sherlock inquired.

"What? No," John denied.

"I'm trying to fix things, John. I know you understand that because of Mary," Sherlock pointed out. John slowly nodded.

"I'm seeing another side to you, Sherlock. I think I like it," John sighed. "Go on, I'll keep an eye on the other two."

There was someone in the room. She was vaguely aware of it. She began to panic, to call out to Lestrade, but the blade was quick. Blood. Darkness. It was over. It was too late. Lestrade ran into the room and there was no one. Just her body. Lestrade fell to his knees. He felt like he'd failed everything. The problem was, the game of triangles wasn't over yet. In fact… It was only just beginning and it was only to get more deadly. More lives were yet to fall. Rory may have escaped, but Rosalyn had not been so lucky. It was a jab. Look how the fragile fall. Oh, the game had only just begun.

 **A/N: Wait, a short chapter? Yes, it is. We end part one of triangles (obviously one of three). And Rosalyn is dead. What will happen now? I'm excited to see what the next few chapters will bring. Check out my profile as I have information concerning current projects and something upcoming I am beyond excited for. I do plan on writing more, but we'll see what happens! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and as always please leave a review!**


	11. Chapter 11

Moira slowly walked through the first room in the warehouse, running her fingers lightly against the wall. Sherlock was watching her, studying her movements. She was very much into this, her mouth slightly agape and her eyes scanning all around. She looked at Sherlock, biting her lip. "They were trying to make sure they didn't leave much of a trace," Moira began. She hesitated, closing her eyes. "I can smell the incense though. A mix."

"I can tell the sage," Sherlock agreed. Moira nodded.

"A hint of coconut and maybe dragon's blood as well," Moira muttered. She sighed, just as her phone rang. Startled, she answered. Sherlock watched her, picking up what sounded like Lestrade's frantic voice. Something was wrong. He could feel it. "Oh god… Oh god no," Moira gasped. "I'll… I'll let him know." She hung up and looked at Sherlock. She had gone deathly pale.

"What's wrong?" Sherlock asked.

"Rosalyn was murdered," Moira breathed, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

Rory sat on the couch, feeling like she'd been punched in the gut. Hard. Rosalyn was as much like a sister to her as Moira was. Now… Now Rosalyn was gone. They'd seen her descend into madness, but this was worse. Knowing that there was no hope left was devastating. Moriarty, John, and Mary were in the kitchen. "Rory talked about her all the time," Moriarty muttered.

"Sherlock and Moira are on their way back," John explained.

"I wonder how they feel," Mary sighed, shaking her head.

"As if Sherlock ever feels anything," John argued.

"Guilt," Rory cut in, getting up off the couch. "She went insane because of what happened. It changed him too. It changed all of us."

"I'm starting to see that," John muttered. "So there was a time when he actually felt things?"

"Yeah, there was. It was what made him better than Mycroft, even if he was never as great as Ford. Ford had the biggest heart to match his mind. Sherlock could love though. He was so loyal. He hated it though, at least a bit. He hated feeling distracted by it. That's why he started the drugs," Rory explained.

"He found a way to turn the emotions off though," Moriarty pointed out. Rory slowly nodded.

"It wasn't hard. Ford was dead, Rosalyn insane… When Moira left, Sherlock didn't really have anything left. There was me, Mycroft, and our parents, but what good was that? You know how my brothers are, and how my parents are. I needed a break as well after Ford. Sherlock had no one to distract him. He shut off his emotions," Rory sighed, leaning into Moriarty.

"Are you okay?" Sherlock asked as they rode back to Baker Street. Moira had been dead silent. She had stopped crying now though.

"We need to solve this," Moira growled. "They took Rory. They killed Rosalyn. We have to stop them."

"Yes, I suppose," Sherlock agreed, hesitantly grabbing her hand. Moira looked at him.

"You can't shut down this time, Sherlock, not like last time. It's not good. You know it," Moira pointed out. Sherlock just nodded. "I'm being serious," Moira snapped. "You shut yourself down. The drugs almost killed you. I can't let you do that again. Too many people need you."

"I know," Sherlock growled. "God, Moira, I do. That's why I got rid of the box."

"I gave my heart to you in that warehouse," Moira reflected. "It's like these people knew. They knew it's where all those memories were."

"I still mean what I said. I love you," Sherlock coughed.

"It's odd to hear you say those three words. I don't think you ever outright used them with me," Moira sighed. Sherlock looked at her.

"We're more intellectual in our relationship. It was never about the emotions," Sherlock argued. Moira smiled.

"Well, we had some physical sides," Moira teased. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"We are still human, I suppose," Sherlock sighed. Moira simply nodded, leaning into Sherlock.

"What the hell have we gotten ourselves into this time?" Moira asked. There was a tired pain in her voice.

"For once, I have no idea," Sherlock muttered, staring out the world passing by.

 **A/N: I finally update! Hi guys I am so sorry for not being on in a while. I had such a crazy summer and I just moved last month, so I'm getting back into more of a rhythm. I'm happy with this chapter now! I think we're really getting in deep to this plot. I hope you all enjoyed this. Leave a review and let me know!**


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